DOES REYNA REALLY EXPECT ME to babysit these city boys?

Hobbling through the hallway, Gemma grimaced when she stepped on her foot wrong. The aching muscles in her face reminded her of the black eye, too. They both needed ice. Moving to the kitchen, she stopped short of opening the door. Reyna and Stefano’s voices drifted in the air, still hushed in a Spanish she didn’t recognize.

Gemma stood against the wall, figuring that interrupting would be less helpful. By Reyna’s tone, she wasn’t happy about something. Her Spanish was much faster when she was upset. And harder to follow.

“I may be old, but my eyesight isn’t that bad, child.”

“Please, Reyna, we had nowhere else to go. Nowhere safe.”

Stefano’s Spanish was much more formal, and the accent still threw her. The broken Spanish she used with Rico and Reyna resembled a ghetto Ebonics in comparison to this man’s formality. Either from a lot of schooling or a government role.

“You think I wouldn’t recognize Esperanza’s son, especially without all that facial hair? No one has a face like hers.”

So these guys weren’t who they pretended to be. “I knew it,” Gemma mouthed. This situation had ugly written all over it. But this Miguel was someone Reyna recognized. And Stefano was family to her. These grits weren’t cookin’ right.

“Please, Tía, no one must know we’re here. Until things improve at home, he must stay safe.”

Fan-fuckin’-tastic. They’re fugitives. Now they’ve dragged Reyna into this. Sweet, helpless Reyna. If Stefano had any love for his elderly aunt, he would never have involved her.

Stefano continued, in a more eloquent dialect than before. From her knowledge of bastardized Spanish, Gemma could only make out the words ‘peligroso,’ ‘militar,’ and ‘familia real.’

Dangerous. Military. A real family? As opposed to a fake family? These men were liars. Gemma was sick of liars, dealing with more than her fair share of the aftermath.

She stepped into the doorway, like Xena-Pissed-Off-Warrior-Princess staring at Stefano like the deceiver he was. On a drop, the room silenced. Stefano watched her, firm and unwavering—daring her to admit she heard him.

“Gemma, sweetheart, you scared me.” Reyna’s cheeks reddened, but the scowl was still firmly in place.

“No, that’s what he did.”

“Que?” Her response was instinctual. Gemma had no doubt that woman’s hearing was perfect. “What did you hear, querida?”

“Enough to know these men are lying.”

Stefano leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, leaving Reyna’s chocolate muffin half-eaten on the table. “What makes you think that?”

“Reyna, who are these men?” Gemma ignored his question and cut straight through the bullshit this man was bound to smear all over the kitchen.

“I told you,” Reyna replied. “My nephew and his…friend.”

“This friend who is Esperanza’s son and they’re hiding out here from some dangerous situation, involving the military and a real family.” Gemma talked fast, too, but only when she was pissed. Nothing achieved that more than liars.

Her attention flustered when Stefano sighed and resumed eating his muffin. Is that relief? The flame in her gut roared.

“If you had any respect for your aunt, any love, why would you endanger her like this? Whatever you’re involved in, take Miguel and leave.”

“Gemma, please sit,” Reyna interrupted. “Let me get an ice pack for your eye. It’s starting to blow up like a balloon.”

“Don’t deflect this, Rina,” Gemma replied.

“Please, mija. Stefano will tell you what he can.”

While Reyna moved to the freezer, Gemma sat, but only because her ankle throbbed. Stefano noticed her wince, and wiped his fingers on a paper towel.

“Give me your foot.” He leaned down to pull off her boot, but Gemma yanked it away. And winced again.

“No thanks.”

“I know a trick for sprains. Let me help you.”

“Gemma,” Reyna threw over her shoulder in that tone Gemma knew to obey. She lifted her foot, biting down on her tongue as Stefano eased off her boot and sock. The skin was already speckled blue and red, swelling by the round bone on the outside.

Stefano’s hands were callused and rough, but warm on her injury. Not at all like Miguel’s, whose soft palms proved smooth and ice-cold from their earlier handshake.

“You pulled a letter on yourself here, didn’t you?”

“A letter?”

“Is my slang not accurate?”

“Number,” Reyna corrected as she dug in the cabinets for the first aid kit.

“Ah.” Stefano smiled.

“I’ve had worse,” Gemma bit out as his thumb pressed on the most swollen spot. He dug through the kit Reyna set in front of him and pulled out the fabric tape.

“You have nothing to fear of me, Gemma.” His voice turned softer, like a father calming a young child. “You and Reyna are safe. I’m very good at what I do.”

“And what is that?”

If Stefano caught the sarcasm in her voice, he didn’t show it as he continued dressing her ankle. She’d heard those exact words before—only to have her life yanked out from under her. She’d never trusted them again.

“I protect people.”

“I can protect Reyna,” Gemma declared.

“Not from everything.” Reyna sat next to her.

“I’ve protected you the last twelve years, Rina. I’m capable of handling whatever steps onto this ranch.” Gemma glared at Stefano. “Including thieves seeking a way across the border.”

Stefano chuckled and wrapped a small section of her heel with the tape, maneuvering the muscles and veins as he pressed. Each pressure point stung like a skunk trap, but Gemma held her tongue.

“We’re not criminals, Gemma. Nor are we border jumpers.”

“Then what is so important and dangerous that you have to involve Reyna?”

A final loop of tape and the pain had mostly subsided. The skin was still discolored and swollen, but the throbbing was gone.

“How did you do that?”

“A trick they taught me in the military. You should ice this, but leave the tape on for twenty-four hours.” Before he finished, Reyna had plopped an ice bag on her foot. Stefano smiled. A genuine smile that made him appear a decade younger, despite the speckled gray hair. This man liked helping people, that much was clear.

“Thank you,” Gemma murmured, letting the ice soothe her ankle.

“I believe you can protect Reyna, and yourself, day-to-day.” Stefano leaned back in his chair again, studying Gemma as he spoke. “I only ask that if you trust her, trust me. I would never let anything hurt her or the people she loves.”

“And Miguel?”

“He trusts me with his life.”

“But can I trust him?” Gemma asked. “Or is he the one in trouble?”

“I trust him,” Stefano said after a pregnant pause. “For now, that should be enough.”

“Stefano, I don’t trust people until they give me a reason to.”

The man cocked his head and waited, still studying her, which didn’t bother her as much as it did earlier.

“Look,” Gemma continued. “I’m sure you’ve seen more in life than you cared to witness, military man and all. And because you’ve shown me you care about Reyna, I’ll trust you. That’s what matters to me most. But Miguel rubs me the wrong way, and my gut is screaming wolf.”

As serious as her words were, Stefano smiled again. Hell, he almost laughed. Laughed? When I bashed his friend?

“There are wolves out here?”

Miguel stood in the doorway, eyes squinted and arms crossed. Gemma’s heartbeat kicked into overdrive as she watched him look back and forth between her and Stefano. The younger man had changed into a fresh shirt and reapplied his cologne. A musky one that hit her senses just right. It pissed her off.

“Just one,” Gemma replied and shoved her foot back into her boot, swollen ankle be damned. Hours of work on the ranch had already been delayed because of this prissy boy.

Rico walked in from the back door. Limping out of the kitchen, she shoved past him and scowled through his confused stare. No breakfast for me today, dammit.